Mr Granger and Mrs Malfoy
by freedomgeneration
Summary: Malfoy and Granger have formed a sort of friendship over time. They manage to squeeze lunch at their respective restaurants at least twice a month each. Add a dash of confusion, meddling friends and love and the potion is in the brew.
1. Chapter 1

Mr. Granger and Mrs. Malfoy

Chapter One: Dinner Dates and the Affairs After

by princecharmprincesswit

* * *

><p>The usual disclaimers apply, and will be applied to the rest of the story: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the idea, characters, worlds, spells, -what have you- pertaining to it. Ideas that are not recognizable are mine.<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

Hermione Granger smiled graciously across the table and looked into the eyes of her dinner date. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, which Hermione decided, were absolutely adorable.

"-and that is the basically what I do." He finished with a dazzling beam of bright, straight pearly whites, after a succinct, yet sweet explanation about his work in a famous and highly regarded wizarding law firm.

Hermione further decided that she liked being dazzled by teeth that would make her dentist parents proud, and leaned further into the table and proceeded to dazzle him, too.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy grinned wolfishly at the foxy lady before him, and leaned nearer into the table, where the glow of the candlelight shimmered in her eyes and cast shadows in her hair. She was telling him about her brood of kittens, recently acquired and currently well loved by her soft cat-blankets.<p>

"Would you care to meet them, Draco?"

Draco decided if he truly wanted to allow this relationship to progress as it usually did, direct to the bedroom, or perhaps to a more meaningful path.

But his beautiful date, with a reckless sparkle in her eyes, leaned further into the table, pouted and did a funny motion to her upper half that set her girls moving in a manner not quite to be laughed at, and… poor Draco's attempts at gallantry and chivalry went flying out the window on his new _FleetWing Z: Super Limited Edition _that he had just gotten by special transaction with Swedish broomakers of The Fleet.

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed contentedly, with a smile on her lips, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. His black silk blanket covered them form the sweet spring breezes.<p>

"That was extra-ordinary, love," and he kissed the top of her head.

* * *

><p>"Oh, baby, that was great."<p>

Draco smiled crookedly to the darkness and said, "It gets better. Want to test my theory?"

She laughed delightedly and a little bit breathlessly and dove back in.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Granger and Mrs. Malfoy

Chapter Two: Lunch Dates and the Affairs Before

by princecharmprincesswit

* * *

><p>The usual disclaimers apply, and will be applied to the rest of the story: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the idea, characters, worlds, spells, -what have you- pertaining to it. Ideas that are not recognizable are mine.<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter Two<p>

Hermione strolled confidently into _Thaddeus, Grimm and Associates Law Practice: Specifically Non-Wizarding and Other Magical Creatures,_ with the heels of her nude patent pumps beating a staccato rhythm on the impressive marble floors of the lobby. She nodded a greeting to the front desk receptionist, Anne. She was blonde, of regular height, young-ish and with a friendly, approachable manner that belied her resiliency in fielding the media and other dubious persons from the inner sanctum of the law offices. She was chatting into the phone, with a pad of paper at her elbow as she smiled at Hermione. Hermione bypassed Anne's heavy and traditional desk, a motif that echoed throughout the whole establishment, and went gliding to the elevator banks. Much like the Ministry of Magic's, the elevators of their offices whizzed by in mind- boggling patterns: backwards, forwards, and all-wards.

She stepped inside and straightened her dove-gray blazer and skirt ensemble. Along with her blush silk blouse, pinned-up hair and pearl studs and portfolio case, she looked equal parts feminine and powerful- feminine accoutrements to fool the macho-traditional types, and a crisp suit to subtly underline her power.

Hermione had chosen to work with this specific firm because of their unusal blend of success and support for Hermione's dearest cause: non-wizarding and magical creatures. The house-elves, veelas, ogres and goblins were Hermione's passion, along with books, friends and success. She had so far risen to the rank of associate, but not as senior associate with the firm. She was successful, but what mattered most was that with each success she had, one more creature looked-down upon by most of the wizarding world is redeemed.

The elevator "dinged" as she reached her floor and was satisfied to find Jacqui already situated behind her desk, with Hermione's breakfast of croissant and earl grey positioned of the low coffee table in the floor's reception room. The floor was composed of the firm's leading associates, all in all five, each of whom had their secretaries situated in front of their office's doors that led to the communal holding and sitting room decorated in muted pastels and heavy, traditional furniture. Hermione made it a habit to have breakfast and discuss the day's goal plans and strategies with Jacqui.

"Hello, Jacqui! How was your date last night and what have you lined up for me today?" Hermione asked as she settled herself in the settee and set her case on the floor beside the table.

"Henry!" Jacqui all but breathed.

"Henry apparated both of us to Nice to have dessert, Hermione!" Jacqui, only 23, beautiful, vibrant and intelligent, seemed to have found the love of her life in Henry, a fellow in a neighbor firm, ambitious and with enough capabilities to be able to rise in the business.

"It was all so sweet. Moonlight, music and then the conversation- he was so open," Jacqui continued as she flitted around her desk to perch on the neighboring settee beside Hermione's. "I believe that he's _the _one." Jacqui was not normally a "gusher" but she- Hermione could not decide what else she could have been- was in raptures about this Henry. Hermione noted it was a first for her young and intelligent secretary.

"Hello Ms. Granger, Jacqui," called Mary, another associate's assistant called, upon stepping out of the elevator.

Hermione chatted with the girls first, finished her briefing with Jacqui and her breakfast. She rose and went to her office and began her work.

* * *

><p>She had just began feeling the beginnings of hunger pangs when her door was thrust open and an elegantly shod foot, followed by an equally elegant clothed body entered, topped by a head that was composed of aristocratic features, platinum blond hair and a warm and suspiciously triumphant smile. Her lunch date with Malfoy!<p>

Hermione looked up guiltily from her work, her quill suspended mid-air, her eyes rounded, when:

"Hermione! I'm sorry! I just couldn't stop him, miss!" Jacqui panted from the doorway, referring to Hermione's instruction of not letting anyone bother her today. Hermione sighed, put down her quill and patted her hair. She waved Jacqui away, rising.

"Oh Jacqui, Malfoy couldn't be stopped by ten ogres if it came to lunch," Hermione said without ire and with a glance at Draco. Jacqui interpreted this as a _fond_ glance. "I'll be back by two, see you then. Have some lunch too, alright?" Hermione picked her blazer up and patted her thigh to make sure that her wand was still properly holstered and stepped towards Draco.

"Where would you like to have lunch today, Granger? The Blue Danube, Izzi, or-Merlin forbid- Madam Puddifoot's? Perhaps a meander through Champs Elysees? I have been longing for Paris, you know," Draco amiably said and just as amiably enveloped her hand in his much larger one and slid it through his arm, as natural as the sun rising in the east and as dirigible plums floating.

Hermione pretended to mull over her choices and shot a conspiring look at Draco.

"How about South Exeter, I hear there's a shepherd's pie conspiracy between the housewives' of that area!" She exclaimed loudly and sarcastically.

"_Or_, how about Korea? I hear Asian cuisine is quite on its way, Granger."

"_Or,_ how about we just replay fifth year, Malfoy-dear?"

They continued their banter through the reception area; with both of them occasionally passing Hermione's associates and other company employees along the way. After two years of seeing _The _Draco Malfoy strolling their hallowed, albeit still obscure (in the eyes of some ignorant), halls, his comings and goings were taken less and less notice.

Except the ladies of the firm, of course. Hermione could feel the daggers and the sheer magnetic force of the ladies' eyes on them both as she and Malfoy strolled to the exit. Young and old and in-between just seem to gravitate towards his aristocratic cast and elegant, yet powerfully masculine countenance. With Malfoy's restrained power and easy charm and grace, no eye did not take notice of him.

Hermione could just almost hear the question "_What does he see in _her?" Add a dash of scorn for Granger and concern for Malfoy, and you have the office gossip for the first two months of the Granger-Malfoy Bi-Monthly Lunch Date.

But as per usual, Hermione and Draco were seated at their regular table in muggle London, in Hermione's favorite restaurant, Cottage Cheese. Cottage Cheese was situated in the higher end of the city, chic and select. The Cottage Cheese was cozy, with mismatched chairs all done up with a unifying color of cream. The walls were done in a pale yellow. The restaurant had the ambiance of a comfortable home, yet was fresh enough as spring, with trimmings of white and clean lines and genuine passion. Hermione and Draco did not fail to miss lunch at the Cottage Cheese each month- neither thinking about who had instituted the tradition in the first place.

"We'll have the usual, Peters," Draco said.

"And a plate of that fresh fruit that I adore, please," Hermione smiled.

"Certainly sir, madam," and Peters, the maître d' withdrew. The Usual was not unfamiliar with Peters, what with Mr. and Mrs. Granger coming to have lunch in the Cottage Cheese every month, and being very generous with the tips, too! Although he never knew why any mother would name their son such an odd name of Malfoy was beyond him.

"How have you been, Malfoy? Any poor victims since last I saw you?" Hermione teased.

"Oh, just a few bloody and bruised hearts, here and there. You? How is Jeremy? That fine fellow in nursing, was it? The one you've been dating for two months?"

"Fist of all, Malfoy, his name is _Jasper! _Get it through your thick head, just once! And he's in _law,_ Malfoy- like me! And he's fiiine," Hermione finished, annoyed and _very_ satisfied at the end, with the twinkle back in her eye.

"Oho! Granger got shagged- is that why you're in such a good mood now? After how many dates was that- 7? How does that guy find the bloody patience?" Malfoy, incredulous as ever. Hermione wondered why she remained friends with him, with a roll of her eyes.

"Malfoy, just be-" Hermione stopped short as the waiter appeared to serve them their appetizers.

As the waiter retreated, Hermione furiously continued "Just because I _want_ to have a relationship before getting some does not make me impossible, Malfoy! In fact, I think that I value Jasper more now, because of this." Hermione felt proud of defending herself so successfully. Jasper, too, of course- mustn't forget him!

"Merlin's balls, Granger. You're a daffy. It's either you like the chap or you don't. Drawing it out to _two months and seven dates?_"

"Just because you can't hold on to any real relationship does not mean that everyone else is just as incapacitated as you are, you arse." Merlin, now Hermione remembered _why _she was friends with him. The debates, and the conversations! Malfoy had the amazing ability to bring blood pumping to her heart outside the courtroom.

In main course, they continued on to calmer waters.

"How _is _your mother, Malfoy? How do you think she found the new novels I sent her?" Hermione had, at the beginning, formed a _very_ tentative and highly unlikely relationship with Narcissa Malfoy. But as time drew on, they discovered a mutual passion: reading. Hermione found out that Narcissa enjoyed Wizarding penny-novels and Hermione offered to bring her some of Helen Granger's muggle romances. From thereon, the budding friendship blossomed to a degree that even Draco held in complete awe.

Draco grimaced and complained "I think she wants to replace me with you, you know Bury my body somewhere in the Manor grounds and adopt you. _Where is Hermione? Have you visited her yet? Ask Daisy to bake her some cookies! How was she? Tell her to call on me!" _He mimicked in a pitchy and grating voice, so unlike Narcissa's soft drawl that Hermione nearly dropped from her chair in laughter.

"Oh is Drakey-poo jealous? Malfoy, _that_ is rich! In fact, I think I'll call on Narcissa this Saturday," she smiled maliciously.

As their desserts were served and lunch wound down, Hermione was brought back to memory lane, on the first lunch she and Malfoy had gone to.

* * *

><p>It had been almost a year and a half since they graduated from Hogwarts. Hermione was, unsurprisingly, at the top of the class. Malfoy, being exceptionally gifted and brilliant himself- a fact that only Hermione and the professors seemed to know- came at a scrapingly close second. Harry and Ron were practically lathering at their mouths with disbelief. Hermione remembered that she could barely restrain herself from smashing their noses in. She knew that Malfoy deserved the honors and she had an unwaveringly fair mind that knew honor was placed in its due- this case, it was Malfoy.<p>

Hermione was just exiting Flourish and Blotts when she collided with a solid and well-dressed brick wall. The wall much later turned out to be Malfoy, from a fitting in Madam Malkin's.

He reached out a firm hand to steady her, after uttering a requisite curse under his breath regarding blind bints. It was obvious to Hermione that this handsome man was not having the day of his life. It became more apparent when he set his eyes on her and scowled.

"Lady, next time you walk, you look." Autocratic git, Hermione thought. It was not as is everybody wants to be slammed to an arse each day, was it? Hermione reconsidered on behalf on some other witches who would _love _to slam themselves (repeatedly) into a handsome wall like the specimen in front of her.

"Sure. It would be better, though, if you did not barrel your way through a crowded section of the street, now would it?" she shot back sarcastically. She was not an idiot and hated being treated like one.

She watched as confusion veiled the man's eyes and found them mirrored by her.

"_You!"_ Malfoy pointed at her.

"_Malfoy!" _Hermione exclaimed.

* * *

><p>Reviews, constructive critique and suggestions are welcome and highly encouraged.<p>

I hope you enjoyed the piece so far. Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Granger and Mrs. Malfoy

Chapter Three: Cottage Cheese

by princecharmprincesswit, now freedomgeneration

* * *

><p>The usual disclaimers apply, and will be applied to the rest of the story: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the idea, characters, worlds, spells, -what have you- pertaining to it. Ideas that are not recognizable are mine.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: It has been more than awhile since I last updated. I am sorry. I seem to have lost my drive and am working on getting in back. Nevertheless, the quality of this chapter is not in anyway diminished, I do assure you. Have fun! (Okay, before that, here's a supremely short recap.)

The Supremely Short Recap:

_Hermione and Draco bump into each other in a crowded street, one and a half years after graduating from Hogwarts. They become friends. Read on to discover how. _

* * *

><p>Chapter Three<p>

Hermione glared at her assailant, unwilling to back down. Draco still looked on at her frowningly, to the point that Hermione felt she was willing to throw the books she had purchased from Flourish and Blotts at him.

Gradually, Draco's brow cleared, and he took her elbow and (Hermione felt) dragged her aside, away from the hustle and bustle of the street, where they were earning reproachful and annoyed glances.

Hermione didn't know what made her allow him to drag her off, but she found herself returning the curious look Draco was giving her.

"I admit this is a surprise." Malfoy began. "So, how have you been?"

_How have you been?_ As if Hermione's every sneeze wasn't documented in The Prophet. She spared him a baleful glance, dropping the same glance to the firm clasp at her elbow. He promptly dropped his hand.

"Fine, Malfoy." She looked at him closely. Surely this wasn't Malfoy, if he was willing to talk to her, let alone hold the arm of a person with her blood.

"Look," he said forcefully, "I'm no longer the stupid little shit I once was, Granger." He said glaring, as if the intensity of the glare would reinforce his newfound belief.

Oops. It seemed she had said _that_ aloud.

"Really?" Now it was Hermione's brow that became furrowed, while she drew out the syllables of her question.

Malfoy looked so offended, like he was about to stop wasting his time on another disbeliever, as if she was another person who gazed at him with such hate and bias that Hermione relented.

"Are you busy?"

Malfoy goggled at her.

"I mean, I haven't had lunch yet, and-" _and what? It would be great to catch up? _Hermione nearly snorted, then remembered she had to finish her sentence, only to find her mind draw a blank. She resorted to gesturing with the hand that held her books instead.

"No. I haven't had lunch yet." Malfoy, thank Merlin, for whatever reason that took hold of him, rescued her floundering.

"There's this little bistro by the corner. They serve decent food." She led the way.

As he followed her, she asked over her shoulder "So are you sure your views have changed, truly?"

"I don't say things I don't mean, Granger."

"Why not go to muggle London, then? I know a place that serves more than decent food, and it's quite near."

Malfoy nodded his acquiescence.

As the pair stepped through The Leaky Cauldron into muggle London, Hermione could feel unease radiating like the sun off of Malfoy.

She felt him step nearer to her. They were receiving looks that implied "You're crazy," and not in the funny way, either. She did not know how she came to forget that they were wearing Wizarding robes. Her only defense was that she had never expected Malfoy to say "yes" to muggle London of all places, and that they'd arrive quite so instantly. She decided to ignore the looks, and looked at Malfoy instead.

He was silently craning his head at the sights and the noise. The way he held himself absolutely still, as if he might be trampled on at any moment, and the way that his head swiveled to every scintillating muggle stimulus: the red bus, the beeping of the mobiles, the lit signs everywhere, opened Hermione's eyes.

She turned to him.

"You haven't ever been here, have you?"

Malfoy's nearly reverent whisper confirmed it: "No."

"Come on, Malfoy. The restaurant I told you about is a little away from here."

They walked the three blocks in silence, with Hermione deliberately keeping her pace slow to accommodate Malfoy's wondering and inquisitive gaze.

To Draco, it seemed as if every step they took led them to a quieter place, with less people, and shop-fronts that had more and more glass. When Hermione paused and waited for him, looking at what Draco assumed to be the restaurant, he felt that he had walked through an alternate universe, and considering his upbringing, he had.

He paused beside Granger, and gazed at the restaurant that served more than decent food. The white wood letters proudly read "Cottage Cheese" and underneath it, in smaller letters "Fine Home Dining." Draco decided he might like to keep an open mind, since, as far as he knew, this will be the first fine home dining aside from the fine meals he had at home.

They entered the threshold, and at the hour of four, the lobby seemed to be empty. Then, a man in severe black came striding to, and Draco was forcibly reminded of his godfather Snape. The man looked at Draco and Hermione so superciliously, and Draco, wholly unaccustomed to being so belittled, decided that he could show the poor man how it was supposed to be done.

Draco drew himself up to his impressive height, and looked a long way down his aristocratic nose and curled his lips in disdain.

"A table for two," Draco said. "Please" was not in his vocabulary, not when he decided to be forthcoming with his knowledge on how to be aptly disdainful.

Hermione just about cringed. She had heard from her mother that Cottage Cheese was an exceptional fine dining experience, with a very comfortable spin, and she didn't want to be thrown out just because Malfoy wanted to act haughty.

"_What do you mean you can never get in again?" Her mother might ask. She'd be mortified to answe,r "Because I'm blacklisted there. My companion and I were not dressed appropriately and nobody could contest otherwise, except us."_

Snape-impostor had to bow to greater superioty, and stiffly motioned the pair forward, not after a very mean gaze at the prospective patrons' attire: Robes that could have passed for the 1800s cloaks, even if the material looked sumptuous.

The maître d' led them forward, and seated them in an innocuous, yet sunny alcove. Draco once more curled his lip in distaste at being put in such a bad seat that Hermione quickly sat down, smiled sunnily and said, "This will do marvelously!"

The maître d' withdrew, with a murmur that a waiter will be shortly by with their menus.

After being served their food, Hermione took a happy bite from her plate. The food had been arranged exquisitely, and she was happy to note, did not disappoint apropos the taste.

She looked at Draco as he cautiously took a bite from his plate. His face looked comically cautious that Hermione was prompted to tell him "It's still just food, Malfoy."

He ignored her, and continued chewing. Hermione approved of his mastication, having been with so little people with appropriate decorum form her own age group. Ron. Cough. Ron.

"This is actually quite good, Granger," he said with a nod of his blonde head.

"I'd say it's better than good. Most fine dining restaurants prefer to serve one-fourth of what's on our plates, usually," she replied with a tentative laugh.

Draco's face returned the small smile.

"What made you change your mind, Malfoy?"

"About what, Granger?" he asked, knowing full well what she meant, intending the question to be rhetorical.

"About how, even if you have no magical ancestry, you're as human as I? Of course, some might want to contest my being human," he gave a soft, delf-deprecating laugh.

"How do you think it feels to grow up in a society so convinced of its uprightness, only coming to realize its evil manipulations when you're ten, and suddenly, you're cast a near-criminal? It was crazy, and we, that is, my friends and I, grew up scewy, shall we say?

Hermione listened in fascination as each cynical confession fell from Draco Malfoy's pureblooded lips.

"When I was thirteen, it became obvious that the Dark Lord had more than a few screws loose. But what was my family to do? Turn tail and die? Everybody dead. Easy, isn't it?"

Hermione couldn't believe that Draco continued to eat as if they were having a casual lunch, and decided to pick up her utensils as well.

"But then it isn't so easy. Slytherins, contrary to popular culture, aren't cowards. Malfoys particularly are not. We are just so selfishly, cunningly survivalist that nothing else matters, don't you see?" he even placed his utensils down and spread his hands to show his point.

"Malfoy, okay. Your family's primary goal was to survive. Why did you guys- plural- have to commit such atrocities then?"

"We didn't." He spared a glance at her, and smiled softly.

Hermione looked incredulous.

"We avoided torturing and excessive violence whenever possible. I know, this does not absolve us of all crimes. What could we do? It had been generations of Malfoys, about two, I reckon, before my father came along. By that time, the family had been so entrenched that it was impossible to climb out. My father could not stand to spy, he was so brain washed to the Dark Lord's power that he felt incapable- his only rebellion was to be as gentle with prisoners as he dared."

"And yet, you became a spy," Hermione said.

"I became a spy," he agreed, nodding.

"Not to be a hero- I'm not Potter, nor have I any wish to be. I had to, if I was to save my family."

"They're all you really cared about, then?"

"Don't forget my friends, Granger."

"Of course."

As they polished off their meal, Hermione had to digest a lot more than food.

* * *

><p>The time to pay came and the waiter presented Malfoy with the cheque and left them.<p>

Malfoy read it, and could not fathom how to pay in pounds.

"Granger, I only have Galleons with me at the moment. Where do you reckon we can have it changed to this currency?"

Hermione let out a gentle laugh.

"Consider this as my treat to you, Malfoy." She placed what appeared to be a slim hard card on the cheque. Draco took it and held it up to see.

"What is this?" he asked, flipping it this way and that. He found numbers on it, along with "Hermione Granger" embossed upon it.

"This is a credit card, Malfoy. Basically, its my line of credit that shops extend to my account in the bank," she explained.

"Hm." She took that to mean "Muggles have good ideas occasionally," especially when Malfoy continued with

"How conveniently portable to be sure."

* * *

><p>Hermione signed the cheque and she walked back to The Leaky Cauldron with Malfoy in tow, understanding the creature beside her much better.<p>

* * *

><p>Leave reviews! :) Thank you very much for reading.<p> 


End file.
